


you never take advice

by sherlockelly



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:24:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockelly/pseuds/sherlockelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T.J. walks in on Jonathan enjoying some alone time, but the real take away point is that T.J. was right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you never take advice

**Author's Note:**

> For pass_shoot_porn, was tagged with “cold as ice”. Title is from the song by Foreigner.

When T.J. walks into his dorm room, he’s become prepared for anything: beer bongs at noon, naked X-box battles, girls covering each other in body paint, etc. Not that living with Jonathan isn’t completely awesome because T.J. has it on really good authority that all of those things are in fact amazing. (And he’d joined in more than one round of Strip Mario Kart.)

And it’s not like he hasn’t opened the door to their room before to see nothing at all, just Jonathan sitting on his bed reading some textbooks or clipping his fingernails or sleeping. Most of the time, that’s exactly what T.J. finds, but he’s still managed to become preemptively comfortable with everything he might interrupt.

For the most part.

When he finally drags his ass back to the room from class (it really was more of a mid-day nap for T.J. though) he opens the door expecting to find anything at all in the world except Jonathan, shirtless, moaning like a porn star and humping his bed.

In a stellarly awkward way, T.J. has to note. Jon hasn't heard the door open, that much is clear by the way his hips keep moving and T.J.'s eyes fixate on Jon's fingers clenched up in the bedspread and the way his ass bounces back up off the mattress. T.J. makes the horrible decision to just enter their room anyhow, quietly as he can, but immediately he realizes how much creepier it is to pretend he’s not there so he stumbles his way loudly to his desk, eyes burning holes in his laptop like his peripheral vision is just broken today.

“Jesus fuck, Teej!” He can see Jon startle out of the corner of his—no wait, he has no way of seeing the bed. He sees nothing, just that laptop. He steels his gaze on it and ignores everything else.

“What?” It’s totally casual and not at all a squeak.

“Fucking knock or something!”

“Um, it’s my room?” T.J. knows that this is also his room, so it’s not a question; it just kind of comes out that way. Jonathan is the one who seems to have forgotten this fact.

“I thought you had a study group until 6.”

T.J. is most definitely not glancing in the mirror on the closet door, watching Jon try to cover his crotch with a pillow. He is definitely not seeing that those damned mesh athletic shorts might as well be invisible for the shit-all they do to hide Jon’s dick.

“That’s tomorrow, right after practice.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Whatever, fuck off, not like you don’t jerk off every fucking morning in the shower,” Jonathan is blushing beet red all the way down to his chest. T.J. does not look in the mirror again to see that he’s a similar shade (no, he really doesn’t, he can already feel that he is without looking).

This comment from Jon ruffles his feathers though. So the fuck what if he rubs one off in the mornings? He’s totally allowed to do that behind a _locked_ door in a _private_ shower where there is not a chance whatsoever that his roommate will barge in and interrupt. Is what T.J. should say.

“At least I don’t still hump the comforter in gym shorts like I’m ten years old.” Is what he does say. And it’s awkward the second he says it. And he knows it.

“Don’t need to know how you touch yourself, Teej.” And when T.J. spins around to defend himself (because what the fuck, he totally doesn’t need to know how Jon does either but it’s too late for that) he doesn’t at all, even for one second notice how Jon’s breath hitches when he adjusts himself under the pillow.

“Excuse you, I was just given the demonstration on Toews Masturbation 101 so you can just go ahead and save the judging for later. Don’t get all bitchy ‘cause you’re embarrassed and have blue balls. Go take a fucking shower if you need to come so damned bad.”

“Oshie Masturbation 101?”

“Fuck off, I gotta study.” He doesn’t, he doesn’t even have homework, but he needs to think about things that are not Jon grunting or his ass bouncing up and down as his hips hit the mattress.

“I’m not taking a shower.” Jon has no right to sound so indignant.

“Then leave me alone.” T.J. spins back around, back to Jon, and opens to a random page in his Geology book. It’s not even the right unit. Whatever, volcanoes are kinda awesome.

“And I do not masturbate like a ten year old!”

“What the fuck, why are you still talking about this?” He shuts the book on his finger and swears.

“Because!”

T.J. spins around again in his chair and really hopes the look on his face says more than he needs to about how much he is _not_ going to have this conversation. Not now, or ever. “Every kid who fucking learns his dick gets hard does it by rubbing on something in gym shorts. And then, when you’re not so fucking blinded by the novelty of it, you learn what hands are for. Like a _normal_ person.” Except apparently he is going to talk about it. Debate on the matter even. He should have written some talking points.

“This feels better.”

“Oh my God, how does chaffing your dick feel better than doing it in the shower, where, _hello_ Jon, lubrication! That’s the point of the shower!”

“The point of the shower is not to slick up your dick!” Since when does Jon get to sound so self-righteous about jacking-off? This entire situation is starting to feel surreal.

“I cannot believe I’m arguing about this with you.” Except he can, because Jon is stubborn and so is he and Jon is _wrong_ about it being better. For some unknown reason every fiber of T.J.’s being makes him want to prove this right now. There’s a deep recess of his brain that is acknowledging this is one of the first arguments they two of them have ever had off the ice, but an ever deeper part is already helping him repress it. None of that changes the fact that T.J. is actually legitimately mad right now. “I will fucking prove it to you!”

Apparently Jon is pretty angry too because he’s leaping off the bed, and throwing the pillow to the floor. T.J. doesn’t notice that Jon isn’t hard anymore. He also doesn’t notice that he’s disappointed.

Jon is now elbowing T.J. as he grabs for the laptop but T.J. manages to jerk it away from him.

“How do you even prove something like that?” Jon is practically fuming and T.J. is kind of enjoying it.

He pulls up a search engine and tries his luck, even though it’s kind of hard to focus with Jon breathing over his shoulder, so damned close that the fabric of his shorts keeps brushing the back of his arm.

“Dude, you did _not_ just google ‘jacking off’. That shit shows up in your history.” Jon pushes him.

“You would be paranoid enough to care about your history. But I would be too if I was looking up ‘gargantuan monster cock’ in my spare time.” This time Jon smacks him in the back of the head.

“Those words mean the same thing, dumbass. And you put ‘of’ not ‘off’. How did you even get into college?”

“Whatever. These results are bogus anyhow.” T.J. tries something else.

“‘How to jack off’? I hate you so much.”

T.J. clicks one of the first results just to shut Jon up. He ends up at some site where all the ads are naked 3D cartoons and tits bouncing up and down. The video autoplays and the sound of some twenty-something guy masturbating fills the dorm room instantly. T.J. scrambles to mute but at least he’s making his case. It’s about a minute before either of them speaks and by then the guy on screen is right in the thick of it, hips lifting off his couch as he fucks his fist. T.J. kind of thinks he might have seen this video before.

“This is just porn. All we are doing is watching porn together right now.” Jon sounds weird and T.J. will not look to see if he’s getting hard, too. He couldn’t be subtle about it from this close anyhow. He’s almost forgotten how mad he is.

“I’m proving a point, assface!”

“It’s gay fucking porn, T.J.”

“One, he’s not fucking, he’s masturbating. Two, it’s probably not even gay ‘cause girls watch this shit, too.” He’s pretty sure that’s true, but it’s not like Jon would know any better than he does. “And three, _most_ importantly, he’s using his hands.”

“God damn it, why can’t you just admit you’re wrong so we can get on from this. Move.” Jonathan shoves him off the chair and onto the floor, effectively killing any hint of a boner T.J. might have had (thank god), and sits down, typing something too-quick in the search bar for T.J. to catch it. Jon punches the enter key hard.

“Because I’m not wrong, asshole. What’s this I’m looking at?” He’s kneeling next to Jon and if T.J.’s elbow is digging into Jon’s thigh, well, fuck him anyhow.

“Aaaand,” he draws out the word as he scrolls. There’s a lot of dicks on T.J.’s computer screen right now. He’s not gonna say anything if Jon doesn’t. “There! See! Face down, gym shorts, humping the bed. And he’s not ten either.” Jon clicks the play button.

“Thank fucking god for that. What did you search anyhow? ‘Coming in your pants like a little bitch’?”

He leans over more than is necessary to look. The keyword is ‘nylon shorts’ and T.J. wants to kill him. He turns to say as much but notes that the triumphant look on Jon’s face is too much given the context. He really just wants Jon to stop looking so smug.

So T.J. kisses him, which is not exactly the same as killing him. And, once again, it’s awkward the second he does it. He also doesn’t know _why_ he does it. Is doing it. Right now.

He pulls away. Jon is just blinking at him with a dumb expression, eyes cold as ice. T.J. kind of wants to die, except that kiss wasn’t even good enough to be the last thing he remembers before throwing himself out the window and he’s really not about to off himself over Toews.

“Three seconds of jerk-off porn shouldn’t make you that gay,” is all Jon can say, finally, after about 20 seconds of silent agony for T.J., but it’s fucking hilarious and they’re both laughing. Laughing is good, it detracts from the awkward. Especially when they realize at the video is still playing and fight to close the laptop at the same time. Jon doesn’t actually seem all that mad after, and T.J. wants to ask if Jon already maybe realized that the three seconds of jerk-off porn had shit-all to do with T.J. being a little gay, but that might be a conversation for a less sober evening and so he’s fine with just moving on for now if Jon is.

(Though, for the record, T.J. would like it noted that Jon _does_ end up taking a shower.)


End file.
